A/N: Over two weeks late, but twice the target length. I'd call that a wash, so I won't even apologize.

Kudos to artist LuckyFK for the original art of asari Commando Era T'Iar, available for your viewing pleasure on DeviantART dot com. Full disclosure: I had written this before I saw the art, but added a detailed description after. It's nice having graphics to go with things that aren't exactly canon, so I'll keep an eye out for more that seems relevant.

*** Departure ***

Shepard stepped out of the taxi in Sector Two looking for the Spectre Office.

The layout was similar to the embassy court of Sector Nine. It felt so familiar that at first, he strolled over toward the reception desk, looking around to see if there were any differences in the court that he could use to distinguish them. An asari sat behind the desk whose skin tone was an unusually deep blue, almost purple. But before he got within speaking distance, he saw another Avina terminal holo.

He asked, "Avina, where is the Spectre office for Sector Two?"

"I'm sorry, the Council Spectre office is not a public–" The hologram seemed to jump to a slightly different pose. "My apologies, Agent. The Spectre office is behind you, across the lake."

Shepard looked over his left shoulder; the 02 was clearly visible on the causeway island. In fact, if not for that, it would have been very easy to assume he was still in Sector Nine. A plaza that looked exactly like the one in front of the Consort's was visible on the other end of the causeway. Well, maybe a little bigger, he thought.

"Got it. Thanks, Avina."

The Avina terminal answered even as he turned away and started walking. "Goodbye, and thank you for using Avina. Please enjoy your visit to the Citadel."

# # #

Citadel Council appoints Alliance Commander Stephen Shepard to be the first human Spectre.

Paddy Amhearst, Editor-in-Chief of Westerlund News happened to see the newsbit as it scrolled by on one of his feeds. He blinked once, raised his eyebrows, then reached out and touched it, scrolled it back and double-tapped it. His VI downloaded the announcement, extracting the information it knew he would care about, and displayed it on a new holographic tile.

Alliance Commander Stephen Shepard, Executive Officer, SSV Normandy
Normandy was at Eden Prime during yesterday's attack, officers and crew to be awarded Legion of Merit citation.
Full Eden Prime analysis pending.
Leader of ad hoc resistance forces during Elysium attack, 2176 – awarded Star of Terra by PM Razhnikova
Married 2165, widowed 2174, no children.
Graduate of Alliance N7 program, 9 of 13 of 25 (rank/grad/start)
Only child of LT Dane Shepard (deceased) and CPT Hannah Shepard (nee Voorhees)

"Desk, is this the same guy that the Post just scooped us on with Fist?"

"Yes," the virtual intelligence answered tersely.

Paddy was not going to miss out on the next big story with the hero of Elysium and Eden Prime. "Shit. Where is he now?"

"Alliance SSV Normandy docked at the Citadel today."

"Who's available on the Citadel to bag an interview with this Shepard?" He touched the holotile.

The VI answered instantly, "Yvonne, Jim, and Kalisah are on the Citadel. Kalisah is currently offline. Jim is still in the ICU at Jamilir hospital in Tayseri Ward. Yvonne is invisible."

Paddy put a hand to his forehead and sighed. "Shit shit shit. I pay you slackers a retainer so there's sure to be at least one of you available at all times. Kalisah, if you're in bed with that asari again, I will serve you your bloody head in thin slices."

Newsbots whispered from feeds in the background for a moment.

"Send text message?" asked his reception VI.

He looked up with alarm. "No," he snapped, "I'm just pissing about it." He thought for a moment, then smiled to himself. "But how about this:

"Yvonne, I want you to land a nice, polite interview with Commander Shepard, the new human Spectre. I need your touch on this. He's been big news before, but he's probably not going to go out of his way to give you any face time. It also sounds like he's a hot item again; the WaPo just broke the story on his bust of an organized crime group run by some guy using the name Fist. The Alliance and the Citadel Council are moving on it already.

"What I want you to do is get with him about this Spectre thing. Was it a result of his investigation? How long has he been working for the Council? Did they make him a Spectre so he can continue that work, and this Fist was just the tip of the iceberg?

"Let me know when you land an interview with him, I want to be there PVR, okay? Sign and send."

"Message sent," confirmed the VI.

Smiling, Paddy added, "Desk, send a message to Kalisah. Kalisah! Sorry you were offline, I assigned Yvonne to interview the new human Spectre. Hope you're back online soon. Cheers! Sign and send."

# # #

Shepard had crossed the causeway, turned left at the stairs; the plaza was much larger, extending out ahead of him to a sculpture garden.

The abstract pieces could have been Prothean, but the presence of asari figures left him confident that this was all fairly current.

The life-sized sculpture of an asari caught his eye; down on one knee, hand extended to something that wasn't shown, as if feeding birds.

His ARO put up a callout: Matriarch Ci'taysha, First Asari Councillor.

As he walked, he counted three asari, three turians, and two salarians. There was also a volus: Jooza Trelb, primary author of the GalactiCredit System.

The abstract pieces still seemed interesting, but he was pressed for time, and continued toward the wall at the end of the garden. A glowing rectangle on the ground next to the wall appeared via ARO.

Spectre Office Access, read the callout.

Out of curiosity, he toggled the callout off and back on again; without it, the rectangle looked like any other of the panels that comprised the surface.

Stepping onto it, he saw the Spectre insignia flash on his ARO as a notifier chimed quietly. "Spectre Office Access," said a VI from his audio cortex, "please mind your step." The panel rose, slowly at first, and then accelerated to lift him to the top of the three-meter wall to another plaza. No one else seemed to be near enough to notice.

He crossed the plaza, looking to his left across the water at the vast asari embassy, and through the door on the far wall. The Spectre office was about 15 meters deep, and only four wide, with doors to adjacent rooms on either side. An asari, sitting at a desk that faced the door, looked up, then back at her holographic display, and up again at Shepard as he approached. "Commander Shepard. Welcome to the Spectres." She rose and stepped around the desk.

For a moment, reality seemed to be breaking down. Shepard had never seen anyone who actually looked like Updater's Agent Kantha, and this was a dead ringer. While this asari's snug-fitting armor had no plating, allowing for maximum flexibility, it was covered with what looked like buckles on the arms and legs. Biotic field magnifiers, prototype, explained his ARO.

She had facial markings that reminded Shepard of the kind that turians wore, but they were a bright red; something like lightning bolts from the back of her cheekbones to the sides of her chin, and another set over her eyes that looked like eyebrows. Her right cheek was scarred with a single set of four claw marks; even with her charmingly pouty smile, it gave her a very intense look.

Even more attention-grabbing was her figure. She seemed to be walking a line straight toward him, and doing so caused her hips to sway attractively. He began to suspect that the producers or writers of Updater had seen this asari and cast Agent Kantha to look as much like her as possible.

She was also raising her left hand to shoulder height and extending it toward him as she approached.

Asari biotic salute, explained a callout on his ARO, Explanation: Sorry, I'm not biotic. But I'm very honored by your salute, Agent T'Iar.

Shepard read the explanation aloud, bowed his head toward her.

Gesture: Raise your right hand to meet hers.

Mirroring his hand with her own, she brushed his fingertips, emitting a brief, faint burst of biotic energy; the tingling sensation it caused reminded him of what he'd felt the time he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Kaidan, who had used his biotics to lift an enemy charging their position behind a barricade. The asari's smile yanked him back to the present.

"The honor is mine, Commander," she said, "and congratulations to you. Your species has come a very long way in a very brief time." She lowered her hand. "We were told to expect you, but I don't think anyone thought you'd arrive today." She smiled impishly. "Have you been taking lessons from the salarians?"

He smiled his amusement. "No; the Council wants me to get started on this task about fifteen minutes ago. My captain...um...I mean my former Captain...sent me to the Spectre office at C-Sec, but the official there said this was a better choice. I'm hoping we'll be able to depart in a few hours."

"The Council will usually tell new agents to come here themselves." The asari Spectre looked to her left. "Perhaps they were in a hurry. But it's true, new Spectre agents – even non-asari ones – are offered Tarilli Lifetime by the Republics." She looked through the door to her left. "Are you familiar with Tarilli?"

Tarilli TCI: Asari medical nanotech organization that supplies and researches personalized life sustainment hardware and NfoX hosting, primarily marketed on Thessia.

"It sounds like an asari version of AbbEks."

Her own omnitool winked and displayed information; she glanced at it as she turned and walked through the large, open door. "M…I suppose they are similar in goal, but Tarilli has persisted across lifetimes." Shepard followed. "The scanner here is up-to-the-minute; in the event of an injury, if you can get to medical facilities that are reasonably current, your chances of survival and recovery are vastly improved."

Shepard recalled how Nihlus' suit VI had provided instructions for him to help the badly wounded Spectre, and nodded. "I'm all for that. What do you need from me?"

"Let me officially verify your identity," she raised her omnitool between them, "and all I need is about 50 minutes."

Shepard nodded agreement. "That works perfectly with my schedule; let's get started."

She continued to look at him intently over the omnitool's holographic interface, glancing down at it only once. As the technology on her forearm glowed and chittered, a hint of a smile played about her lips. "Ever hear of the Preservers, Commander?"

Preservers: Asari NGO committed to saving species on the verge of extinction, indicated his ARO.

"Not before now," he said, "Why?"

"M…it is complicated. Consider it a professional interest." She waved toward the door to her left again. "As you say, 'Let's get started.'"

The door opened quickly, and closed immediately behind them. It was not hard to guess why: They had stepped into an impressive armory. On the right, rows of shelves displayed hundreds of varying weapons. And not just standard-issue stuff, Shepard noticed. Derringer-type sleeve pistols, auto-targeting BRLs, small arms that had been banned by treaty, omnitool attachments, and a number of seemingly random objects that Shepard was certain were not what they appeared to be.

As he focused on one, his ARO put a callout on it that stayed curiously blank.

T'Iar followed his gaze. "Yes, it looks like a normal tabletool, though an expensive one. But it is just a shell. That one is an area lifter, but we can put many surprising things in them, depending on your needs." On their left were a pair of exam platforms with a scan ring each; she stopped and turned to face him. "Perhaps we can continue to talk while the scans and analysis are performed. Would you mind removing your armor?"

Stay on task, he thought. Keep it professional. This is not Agent Kantha and I am not being seduced. He powered the armor down, and began removing his gauntlets. "Do you have an armor locker I can use?" He detached and lifted the shoulder assembly over his head.

"You won't actually need it," the voluptuous blue alien nodded toward Shepard's right. "Feel free to use the second table."

His armor clanked, rustled, whirred and as he began to remove components. "Does this information stay with the Spectre office, or can any group that's part of the Tarilli network use it?"

"The cellular genomic evolution, history mapping, and metabolic vector information we obtain can be made part of your body, instantly readable by your VI, which can advise rescue personnel. Like an RFID device, but with encryption that only the Spectre office can read through. If you will permit it, this also allows us to know where you are if the information is accessed, which would allow us to provide assistance if you are captured by an enemy, and they attempt to repair you for interrogation."

Shepard nodded. "I think I encountered something like that on Eden Prime. Spectre Nihlus Kyrick's suit advised me how to assist him."

"First responders interact with a different layer of the VI, though that was part of it," the asari had moved to a control array next to the scan ring and waved her hand through its holographic interface. As a larger group of controls extruded from the wall, she walked back over to Shepard, rendering her omnitool gauntlet again.

The plate sections of his armor now neatly arranged on the unused exam table, Shepard turned to the asari as he lit his omnitool and began to issue commands to the suit. "That's the heavy stuff. You want the bioarmor layer off too, I assume."

Agent T'Iar looked up from her omnitool. "If you would."

Shepard's answer was to touch the wrists of the jumpsuit together; the underlayer relaxed visibly, and he climbed out through the neck opening of the softer, 8mm black jumpsuit...though it looked more like a large sleeping bag when fully relaxed.

"It looks like your armor is current, but not state-of the-art. If you have another hour after we are finished with the scan, I can equip you with a new set and configure it."

Shepard paused, looked over his shoulder at her. "That would be…very welcome, Spectre T'Iar. Though I'd like to keep this armor, too."

"Of course." She nodded her acknowledgement as he leaned against the scanning platform, pulling the legs of the jumpsuit off one at a time. Studying the underlayer, she asked, "Is that the last layer?"

He pulled the sleeve up his arm. "Nothing under here but me and my SCI."

The asari paused, seemed to be reading from her own ARO. "It seems your Alliance still has many subcultures in it, with conflicting standards of conduct. And there are rites associated with…disrobing?"

"That's true…and not always for good reasons." He studied the exam platform.

"And I do not know which ones apply to you."

"This is my life we're talking about here," he answered. "If you need me as exposed as possible for maximum scan fidelity, I would have to be a fool to refuse."

There was a pause as the asari Spectre's VI clarified his meaning, displayed the results on her ARO.

"Then…if you would…disrobe completely." As she spoke, she turned to the control wall, opened a cabinet on it, and reached inside.

Shepard removed the carbon DCE undersuit – which looked like a faintly translucent dark grey leotard – his omnitool's flextronic sleeve, and second-skin undergarments: socks, gloves, and shorts. He was glad the room was slightly cool.

The asari approached, carrying a small cup of faintly-orangeish liquid, two small bottles, and something that looked like a petri dish. She handed this to him first. "Apply this to your dermis, starting at the outer extremities." She set the other items on the platform nearby and walked to the other end of it. "I need to configure the brain scanner. You are our first human." She sounded amused.

The dish held a sand-colored, slightly greasy paste. Active Polymorphic Contrast, explained his ARO.

He wiped a fingerful of it onto a hand, set the dish down and began to rub his hands together, covering them with it. It dissolved into his skin almost immediately. Perching on the warmed plastic surface of the scan platform, he rubbed more of the stuff on his feet, working his way up his legs, then arms, head, and neck. There was still plenty of it left, so he continued to cover his torso and back with it. "Am I supposed to use all of this?"

Spectre T'Iar looked up from the other end of the platform, saw him holding the small dish. "There should be more than you need," she explained, "And it's active, so you don't need to work too hard at application; just scrub until it doesn't feel gritty. As you might guess, the contrast will increase the scan fidelity, so you may want to make sure your face, head, and any other parts you are especially fond of are treated." With a mischievous but private smile, she continued to configure the hemispherical array at her end of the platform.

"And what do I do with the other things?"

The asari looked at her omnitool gauntlet to read the rest of the scanner instructions, "Spray the pink bottle into your anus, the green bottle into your nose and ears, and then drink the orange liquid. When you are finished, please lie on the platform with your head at this end."

# # #

Kaidan's omnitool winked a notifier at him: Event Scheduler Update from C. Pressly: Normandy departs at 2100. Report aboard by 2030. Tardiness will result in two weeks' pay penalty.

"Hey, look at that, we're still in the Alliance." Ash toggled her omnitool back off and leaned forward on the table again. "Well Lieutenant, I'm impressed. You drink like you mean it."

Kaidan pushed his glass toward the glowing ring at the table's centre. "And you drink like you like it."

"Okay, my sisters will ask, so what else do you know about Commander Shepard?"

Kaidan looked away, frowning thoughtfully. "Well, since you're probably going to end up on the ground team a lot, you should know he doesn't like killing people."

Ash picked up her glass and looked at it thoughtfully. For a long time. "Nope. Don't s'pose I do, too."

"If you really wanna score some points, get some medical apps and stuff. Have the MFO print up an NNP sprayer, and use it if all else fails."

Ash was silent for a moment. "Like happened outside that…love club?"

Kaidan nodded. "'Zactly."

"What do they cost?"

"They don't. Alliance advises it, and the hardware is just…" He struggled to recall how much, then gave up. "Oh, I don't know. Maye a hundred grams. He made a deal to refill the stuff for free."

She looked puzzled.

Kaidan tried to explain, "Shepard did. With the CFS. Uh…Chakwas."

"No, I mean why?"

"His way of encouraging people to carry them."

More thinking. "What's in it for him?"

Kaidan sighed. "I think he's just trying to prevent any more death. When he can't do that, he saves what he can."

"You can't stop death. It's part of the way of things."

Kaidan nodded, and was silent for a moment. "Yeah…well…we might all encounter death, but we don't all react to it the same way."

"Aliens, too?"

"Aliens, too."

Ash looked resigned, shook her head. "Okay, what else?"

Kaidan picked up one of the shot glasses, peered through it as though it were a telescope. "What else. What else, what else, what else…" He panned the distorted view around the room. "You can tell he's a spacer kid, even though he spent high school on Earth." The shot glass landed on the table loudly.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"He may not look over his shoulder, but he'll always make sure the door closes behind him."

Ash shook her head. "So he's paranoid? With kinetic barriers, nobody worries about stuff like that anymore."

Kaidan grinned. "Kinetic barriers stop high-speed objects. Combat shielding is a kinetic barrier. Kiggs fields…I mean…um, Kiggs generators…create a field effect…thing…uh, an energy wall to keep low-density liquids - like air - confined to a volume. But they're relatively new. Space travel used to be under the constant threat of explosive decompression. That's one of the reasons ships used to cost so much to build, and why those old museum pieces are so tough, eh?"

"And heavy," Ash added. "And slow."

"Right. But the habits of spacers were established already. It's like…" He paused, looked away in thought. "You're from Earth, right?" Ash nodded. "You ever been to Minnesota?"

"What? Me? No."

"Well, I have family near there, and one time we went across the border. Hmm… I don't remember why." Kaidan frowned to himself as he looked away momentarily. "Anyway, lots of folks there sound like they have a Scandinavian accent. Not because they're from Sweden or Denmark or Norway, and not even because their parents or grandparents were. But the accent persists even though they're all native speakers because they learned to speak in a community where that was the norm. It's kind of a linguistic time capsule."

Ash grinned lopsidedly. "Oo…a linguistic time capsule." She snorted. "You are just too damn smart for your own good, Lieutenant."

Kaidan shook his head. "Hey, I don't make this stuff up."

Ash tilted her head, glanced toward the nearest door for a moment. "And you're saying…that's how you can tell Commander Shepard was raised on ships instead of on a planet? That's…" she shook her head, "That's…aw, I don't know what that is. It's crazy."

"Okay, maybe it is. But watch his eyes every time he walks through a doorway. 'Specially if there's no door to close."

"Hm. Maybe." Ash threw down another shot of slivovitsa, held up the glass and looked at it. "Ouch. That felt good."

Kaidan looked at the row of empty shot glasses and shook his head. "It's going to take us longer to get back to the ship."

"You think you can't drive a taxi when you're drunk?"

"I know it's harder to find the taxi door when I'm drunk."

"You want a shot of Nectar 'fore we head back?"

The biotic reached into a shirt pocket and produced two small packets. "Got one...uh...two on the way in."

"And you're responsible, too?" Ash shook her head. "Buster, why aren't you married?"

Kaidan smiled to himself. "You'll have to get me drunker than this to find out." He tore the top off one of the packets and poured it into his mouth, swishing its contents around thoroughly.

Ash leaned sideways, smashing her head into his shoulder. "Aww...come on. Just give me a little hint."

He swallowed, inhaled deeply. "Nope, too late. I can feel my scruples rebuilding already."

Ash palmed the other packet and scooted out of the booth. "Fine. Then I can keep enjoying myself." She hooked one arm into his and pointed toward the door with the other with a loud sigh. "Home, James."

# # #

Reclining on the platform, Shepard could just see the asari's face over the controls. "What do we do now?"

T'Iar did technical things at the console, which blipped and chimed in response, and then looked up from the controls. "And now we wait." She made adjustments to the control console that had extruded from the wall. "It will probably take between seven and fifteen minutes for the contrast to spread out evenly though your anatomy."

Shepard could feel himself trying not to stare, but his expression must have set off the asari's cultural awareness VI. She tilted her head to one side. "You seem to have something unsaid. What is it?"

"Have you…ever heard of a human trideo show called Updater?"

Her faint sigh was one of patient indulgence; she looked away and closed her eyes briefly. "Commander, do you think I could not have?"

"I'm sorry. I suppose you get that a lot; you look so much like the actor they cast in the role. I wasn't sure if the producers and writers of the show did that because they saw you and actually cast you, or if they just were inspired and found someone who looks like you."

"Are you a fan?"

He looked away guiltily. "I don't think I've even watched an entire episode. I only knew of it because of the advertising. But one of my marines is a die-hard."

She seemed resigned. "I have almost 500 years, over 200 of them as a Spectre. I'm at least partly responsible for humans being on the Citadel instead of extinct. The reason I'm assigned here is because the showwriters have no restraint. I haven't decided whether this deserves praise or penalty: On the one hand, I can't show my face in public without being mobbed by sex-starved children. On the other, I haven't killed anyone in over three years."

"It sounds like that's a good news/bad news joke, but I don't know which is which."

The Spectre looked at him quizzically as her VI sorted out what that meant and explained it to her. "That would depend on who it is. Have you ever had someone in your sights that you let go, and then later wished you'd taken the shot?"

"I've had more that I didn't want to kill. I've gotten good at wounding instead."

"Then allow me to suggest you become less compassionate. Focus on your goal. This isn't about the value of the individual. It's about the collective needs of the galactic trillions." She leaned back in the seat. "Planets, and even whole civilizations can be saved or obliterated because of our actions." A shrug. "And I can't do this work until that show is dead and gone."

"At least you have the option to consider it in such a long view. For me, it'd probably be a career-ender."

"Long view?" She looked past him at the weapons racks. "In the long view, I'll be dead."

C. Pressly: The rest of the CHA contractors have disembarked. Captain Anderson said to expect this.
This message is autosent from Charles Pressly's VI.

Out of habit, Shepard touched his left thumb to the second phalage of his ring finger; from the other exam platform, the omnitool warbled a sad little squeak. Low-bandwidth range from tool, explained his ARO. He looked to where it was in relation to himself.

"Hm. I just got a message from my XO. Will it mess up the scan if I answer him?"

Agent T'Iar looked to her left at a display. "No. The swarm is still calibrating. It looks like you have another…ah…a hundred seconds."

He gestured again, and subvocalized, Sounds like a good thing. Are they going to be able to get off the ship in time?

There was a pause as Pressly read the rest of the string.

C. Pressly: No problem, Commmander. Half of 'em were packed and ready to go when we docked. I think the Captain. Anderson told them we were going to Phase Three.

Will this let us berth the quarian contractor?

C. Pressly: I suppose so, sir. I'm a little concerned about security, though. Two of the "extra" berths are with the Engineering team. They might talk tech without thinking about it.

Thinking about what?

C. Pressly: The quarian. They might forget they're not in a secure environment anymore. A better choice for contractor berthing might be in the forward bunks.

Shepard frowned to himself. With all the technology of Tali's environment suit, Shepard could understand why Pressly might think of the quarian as a thing, an "it" instead of a "her," but was surprised he would say it aloud.

Maybe that's not how he meant it.

He subvocalized, How many berths are available there?

C. Pressly: Three. Five if you count the fold-outs.

Okay, put her there for now, but put a reminder on my Desk. I may want to reconsider that later.

"The network is complete and stable," Agent T'Iar said. "I can start the scan when you are ready."

"Do I need to lie still? Or not talk? Anything like that?"

C. Pressly: Will do, sir.

"You should stay on the platform, and lie generally still," T'Iar replied. The platform will use gravity planing to stress your tissues, which may feel like acceleration when you are aboard a ship."

Shepard studied the array of sensors around his head, forming a hemisphere almost a meter across. "Then I'm probably as ready as I'm going to be. Victor Indigo, hold all inputs until I put my omnitool back on."

Era T'Iar nodded and looked down as she touched the control; it chwirkled as she looked back up. A thin green band that ran around the inside of the encircling torus glowed brightly as it began to slide toward Shepard's feet.

# # #

The door opened in front of them.

"This is the hangar," Rosamund waved a hand into the largest single space aboard the ship. "It looks like they just loaded the new landing vehicle."

"A Rocketdyne-BDS M-35 Mako," Tali breathed. "Keelah, it's so new, the armor hasn't even finished curing. I can smell the diamond composite from here. They must have just finished it."

Roz turned with a huge grin. "I never thought of that. I'll bet your suit gives you lots of super-powers like that."

Tali held a finger to the front of her mask as her VI prompted her with a graphic and an explanation: Human gesture for silence or secrecy. "It's true…but don't make a big deal out of it. It upsets some people because they think crazy things like…I can tell what they're thinking, or I know what they do when they're alone."

"Your secret's safe with me," Roz winked. "Like I said, best not to touch anything, at least not yet. But I'll bet you're just dying to. We can go look, though."

Tali's VI and sensors covered the scene before her with callouts and technical information, but she didn't move from the elevator. "Can we see the engines?"

Roz looked quickly around the hangar. "I keep forgetting about you and engines. Mmh…now might be a good time, with the engineering contractors getting off the ship. Maybe they won't notice us." She gestured for Tali to follow her as she turned to her right and then headed aft.

The accessway ended in a door marked ENGINEERING – DRIVE CORE – HAZARD 03, 04, 06. It opened for Roz. Standing just on the other side was Engineering Chief Adams.

Roz saluted. "Sir."

"Hey." Adams returned the salute and started to walk past, but stopped. "Who's this?"

Roz lifted a hand, palm up, indicating the quarian. "New Contractor, Tali'Zorah. The Commander just handed her off to me; I'm giving her the tour."

Adams looked over his shoulder into the Engine Room. "Uh…well, okay. But be careful. And don't bother Zhang, he's been having hysterics now that CHA pulled the last of their people. I think he'll be fine, but he's not so sure."

"What's the problem?" Tali took a step forward. "Maybe we can help."

Adams looked uncertain. "I don't want him any more emotional than he is. Probably best not to try to help him yet. You especially don't want to make him think he doesn't know it all."

"We'll stay out of his way, sir." Roz said.

"I'll be right back anyway." Adams stepped past them. "You shouldn't be able to get into too much trouble by then," he chuckled under his breath.

# # #

Garrus stood at the door to his efficiency apartment, surveying its now-bare walls and floor. His collection of personal items was largely digital or digitized; his one civilian outfit was already rolled neatly in his sandwich pack. After almost six years in C-Sec, it seemed like he had little to show for it but memories, and too many of them were bad.

Listening to his father instead of accepting the offer from the Spectre Office, the bureaucratic snafu that resulted in his missed promotion, the death of the blindingly intelligent and devastatingly gorgeous Vindai Helenus who had taken a bullet for him, and most recently, the still-unresolved debacle with "Doctor Hart." After all that had gone so desperately wrong in his career at C-Sec, Garrus could only curse his own insensitivity to human irrationality for this latest blunder.

It all just ate at him.

But by his family's spirit, he would not miss this opportunity to make it all worthwhile: join the human Spectre, bring the traitorous Saren down hard and fast. And publicly.

Of course, his father's reaction would be, "I told you Spectres were dangerous."

Garrus tilted his head up to a horizon he could not see; to anyone standing there, he gave the impression of looking into the future, hoping for vindication. Perhaps that would be enough.

A quick check of his omnitool showed that the human, Commander Shepard, was still aboard the station.

No time to waste.

He turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.

# # #

Getting outfitted with the latest armor and omnitool was good, and being able to talk with an asari who had spent more time as a Spectre than he had even been breathing had been both interesting and informative, but it had all taken more time than Shepard had expected. He was glad to be in a taxi headed directly to the C-Sec dock access. The last thing he needed was to have threatened everyone else with getting fined two week's pay for tardiness and then show up late himself.

The taxi settled gently on the landing marker, the door sprang open.

And there was a turian in his face.

DisplaiD quickly identified him: Vakarian, Garrus - Citadel Security Officer: Detective. Off Duty.

"Commander Shepard, I need to talk to you."

"Detective," Shepard said. "Is there a problem?"

"If there is a problem, Commander, it is mine and not yours." As he spoke, Vakarian stepped back to allow Shepard to exit the taxi. "But first, I should congratulate you on being appointed a Spectre. It's a notable achievement for anyone, but for you especially as the first human."

"I appreciate that, Detective…"

Garrus didn't let him finish, "I guess it took someone like you to get the Council to see Saren for what he really is: A traitor. I resigned from C-Sec after the Council ignored my investigation, I'm just sick of all the politics." He slashed a claw to one side.

"Are you sure that's the right thing to do? You can surely do more in C-Sec than you can from outside of it."

"Not with the Council pulling strings in C-Sec and Saren manipulating them," Garrus snapped. "And…all right, I haven't actually resigned yet; I was about to take a Leave of Absence."

Shepard's ARO tagged some of the plates on the turian's face and added, Unconscious indicators of sincerity, intensity, possibly desperation.

Garrus folded his arms. "When we were chasing Fist as a way of getting to Saren, I told you that I wanted to help you take down Saren. But you were focused on Fist. I was…concerned that you didn't seem interested in my offer at the time." He held up his left arm, illuminating his omnitool briefly, "I've been reminded that humans tend to prioritize short-term goals first. So I wanted to say this to you directly: You're the only one who seems to be doing anything about Saren and getting some traction. I can do so much more with you than stuck here on my own. Let me come with you."

Shepard didn't have time to think of a reply before the sound of heavy feet made him turn.

"Hey Shepard! Don't waste your time with him, you'll need some serious muscle to take down Saren!" Wrex stomped to a halt next to them, gave Garrus a look of distaste. "You're still after that turian, right?"

"I'm sorry, I don't have time for this," Shepard held up a hand to each of them, but looked at Wrex. "And I really don't need any more problems."

"I don't cause problems, I solve them," Wrex waved his head toward Garrus. "Besides, you don't need a turian shooting you in the back. That turian Saren is the problem here. Turians are always the problem."

Event Scheduler: Proceed to dock lift, warned Shepard's ARO.

Garrus rounded on Wrex, "All turians are not the same. I'm not like Saren."

Wrex leaned menacingly toward Garrus. "You're more like Saren than I could ever be, turian."

Shepard stepped to his right, around the argument and away from the krogan. How do I get rid of these two? I'm about to be late to my own departure. He pointed across the atrium. "I'm getting on that lift right now. You each have one minute to sell me on why I need you along." He started walking toward the lift.

Wrex turned and followed. "That's easy. You don't want to turn down freely-offered help fighting Saren. No one willing to fight him will be inexpensive."

Garrus had turned and fallen in on Shepard's right. "Don't confuse crazy and willing with capable and motivated. I have six years with C-Sec, and a network of intelligence contacts in the Home Guard. I also have access to the STG through personal contacts, and I'm a Class-IV sniper scout with Crossed Swords." He stepped into the lift and held the Door Open icon. "And I have my own weapons."

"Heh," Wrex snorted as he stepped into the elevator behind Shepard. "I'm a battlemaster with centuries of real-world combat experience in environments that would kill you just standing in them." The krogan glared at the C-Sec detective. "Not the games you play to earn your cute little merit badges."

"You're both assuming I have to recruit a ground team." Shepard gestured at the controls; the door hissed shut and the lift began its ascent. "I don't. I have a small but state-of-the-art frigate with a trained Alliance crew, including a squad of Marines. The same team that was on the ground at Eden Prime."

"And you're going after Saren Arterius, a legendary turian Spectre that I've been building a case against for years," Garrus raised his left forearm with its omnitool interface aglow. "I have C-Sec records that were classified after Saren was officially implicated, but before the Council made them go away. If you have time to analyze them, you can compile a dossier on him that you won't find anywhere else. Good intel on a bad guy."

Wrex turned aside with a sneer. "And when you find him, do you know how long it'll take him to put an extra hole in your empty head? Saren is tough and smart; assuming you can outsmart him, you'd better be able to out-tough him." Moving almost too fast to follow, he drew his grenade-launching assault rifle and 15-kilo shotgun, visibly waving the barrel of the shotgun past Garrus as he turned to address Shepard. "You'll be glad to have me and my little friends along." He turned his head slightly and added, "Amateur."

Shepard remembered that Saren was allied with the geth, and there were untold numbers of them; the quarian might be valuable, but was not a battle-hardened veteran. Never forget this, Anderson had told him, we are the greenest of green beans at this table. They all know more than we do, have been here longer, and know how things work. Shepard held up his hands toward the two aliens, "Alright, stop."

Both looked away from each other and toward him.

"Here's one problem I have: Until I read up on what a Spectre gets budgeted for operations, I don't have anything to pay you. Of course, having you along for the ride would present no unacceptable burden," he nodded toward Garrus, "but until I hear from Finance, you'll have to do this RBR." He gestured for a VI query and subvocalized, Show me a contractor pay table.

Garrus was too keenly aware of Wrex to say anything aloud, but he thought, You'll probably like the Spectre expensing arrangement, and it should let you pay us well enough. This is a good secret to keep.

Shepard continued, "But worse, you two are a toxic mix. From what I've seen so far, you have cultural and personal issues. Clearly I can't have both of you in the same room."

"You're not supposed to take both of us," Wrex grumbled.

Garrus had encountered this problem before. "Then how about this: At the first problem, you get rid of whoever's causing problems. And you get to decide what constitutes a problem."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "That's always been understood. My ship, my rules. But it could be bad for you if I decide to do so while we're light years from a mass relay."

"I'm not stupid," Wrex said, "You just want a truce." He turned toward Garrus, one hand out. "I offer you my hand as an ally. If you take it, you are safe while I live."

Garrus suddenly had a 20-cm knife in his claw – there had barely been time to see him draw it from his boot – and he offered the handle toward Wrex. "And I offer you my blade. My allies are your allies."

Neither moved as each tried to stare the other down.

Shepard *mostly* managed to keep from smiling as he stood looking at the two of them, squared off with offers of peace, and neither willing to accept what was offered. "One of you is gonna have to go first, you know."

"If you take it and reneg, you had better be sure I am very dead," Wrex whisper-growled.

Garrus read the prompt from his holographic monocle, "I accept your hand, and declare myself friend to clan Urdnot." He traded the knife to his other claw, and gripped Wrex's massive right hand with his own.

Wrex shook the turian's claw cursorily, nodding once as he flicked the turian claw away. He found the blade's handle proferred again. He took it with his left hand. "And I…uh…accept your allies and blade as my own."

Mentally, Garrus sighed. A krogan blade would probably be useless anyway, he thought. Having the replacement licensing to fabricate another, he realized it was no major loss.

Each took a small step back as the elevator door grumbled open, revealing the docking bay. Against the spectacular background of deep space, Normandy gleamed under the rows of overhead docking bay lights. Service crews were just finishing the pullback of cranes and supply lines. Shepard studied the ARO-displayed contractor pay table and realized he would stay within budget even if he had to pay six contractors, and there would probably be other occasions to uninvite them.

Wrex was examining the blade. "Hm. Balanced for throwing, but meant for small hands," he smirked. "Makes a real nice toothpick, though."

"Right, then." Shepard nodded once. "I take it you're both okay with the going rate." He didn't smile, but confidently played his high card, "But we're leaving right now. If you aren't carrying everything you need to bring, then you have missed this boat."

Garrus reached down and hefted to his shoulder the sandwich pack he had been carrying instead of wearing. "Here's my life," he said. "I'm Full Commit." He looked meaningfully at the krogan.

Wrex sniffed. "I am krogan," he said. "I've lived out of my own hump for years at a time."

Great, Shepard thought. He gestured for 6x acceleration.

The extra time to think wasn't enough. He had expected – even looked forward to – the opportunity to board his first command with some sense of occasion, and it hadn't involved dragging along two squabbling aliens. I'll have to just walk them aboard. He gestured for RTM, subvocalized again, Talitha Draven, I have another pair of contractors for you and Roz to handle. I'm coming aboard immediately. Please meet me at the forward airlock.

To his surprise, the response came back immediately. T. Draven: Coming up from the mess, sir. Be right there.

Though feeling resigned, he moved decisively, stepping between the two aliens and out of the lift. "Right, then. Let's go."

# # #

Shepard strode along the docking arm, aware that cameras feeds on him were being watched by the crew, CTC, news media, Alliance Command, his mother…and for all I know, Mrs. Jordan, my kindergarten teacher, he thought. I'd better do 'em proud.

They stopped in front of the airlock's inner door; the outer door rumbled into place behind them. "Decontamination in progress," said the Boatswain VI.

Wrex looked around he oversized airlock. "Are we gonna have to do this every time we go aboard?"

"Just doing our part to prevent the spread of infectious diseases," Garrus said, "I would think we can agree on that being a good idea."

Wrex turned slowly and seemed to be about to say something, but Garrus ignored him.

As the decon arm hummed back and forth, Shepard watched the datastream on the left side of his ARO. The crew was present and accounted for, stations were crewed, system status lights were switching to green. Major repairs had been made, smaller ones would be performed while underway. Supplies were secure, departure was still on schedule.

The inner door opened; Talitha Draven was there, once again wearing a salute. Her eyes widened. "Uh…welcome aboard…sir." She looked startled to see the turian and krogan, but if she had any thoughts, she did not speak them.

Shepard glanced to one side and stuck a thumb over his shoulder. "You handled the quarian so well, I thought I'd throw a bigger challenge your way."

Draven's holographic monocle automatically switched from scrolling text to callouts. "Yes, sir. Um…a bigger challenge all right."

Wrex leaned forward slowly. "Boo," he teased.

Talitha had looked nervous at first, but now seemed to get a sense of the play. Her face lit slowly. "Boo," she answered with a grin.

Garrus held up a single claw to shoulder height. "Careful, you'll scare him. He'll probably start to cry. And you don't want that."

The smallish human addressed her CO, "Okay, sir. I think I've got this."

Shepard stepped out of the airlock. "Very good, Draven. Carry on."

Her voice dropped away as Shepard headed aft, "Welcome aboard Normandy. I'm Warrant Officer Talitha Draven, and my twin and I will be introducing you to the ship and crew over the next few days. You may call me Tal…"

On his way, Shepard saw Pressly standing next to the starboard Comm station, omnitool aglow, and looking like he was on three calls at once.

"You said AllIntComNet is currently two tee high," he said to whoever it was on the other end of the link, "I saw that this morning myself. It's not bad, but you say it's been there for an hour…"

Shepard gestured for RTM, Pressly, we don't need to leave immediately; if you need time, just say.

The navigator looked up, raised a hand to shoulder height, and shook his head. Shepard took it that his XO had the situation under control and kept walking.

Ten minutes today won't make a difference trying to find Saren, he thought. I can take the time to give my first orders with all the trimmings.

Having not yet transferred his personal effects to the Captain's cabin, he went his locker on the middeck, changed into his dress whites. As he slipped on the jacket, checked decorations and accessories, verifiying everything was in order, he noticed the last of the critical systems switch from yellow to green on his ARO. It was at once gratifying and slightly overwhelming to realize that everyone aboard was doing their level best to depart on schedule; he would probably never know what sort of problems had been overcome or kludged to make it possible.

But he also noticed that everyone in the mess – the off-duty crew – was watching the holographic displays on the back wall that showed external cameras, the bridgecam forward, the dock view, and VI-generated Alliance news about the ship. The muted buzz of quiet conversation danced around the room.

And no one had looked at him after he had come down the ladder. Having made no eye contact, he had not been saluted, but the privacy he was being granted now was not the usual courtesy offered by people who have to share a confined space. This was something else, a deference to the new CO, an awareness that there was more at stake here than they were being told.

Shepard extracted white gloves from the pockets and pulled them on, pinched the edges of the jacket and ran his fingers along them to activate the stiffener. Though it would take ten to fifteen seconds for the chemical reaction to complete, he could feel the material arranging itself as it began to do so.

He pulled down on the jacket front one last time to flatten it out, and then walked very deliberately to the aft end of the mess. When he turned his head to speak, all eyes were already on him, but he kept walking. "Stand by for a important announcement," he said.

From the top of the ladder, the walk forward seemed like one of the longest of his life. Mouth closed, he smiled confidently at everyone who looked up as he passed, not wanting to disturb the crew, but to assure them, even inspire them if he could, that this was all as it should be.

When he stepped onto the bridge, Joker turned immediately. He looked unhappy. "Heard what happened to Captain Anderson," he shook his head. "Survives a hundred battles to get shot down by backroom politics. Just watch your back, Commander. Things go fubar on this mission, you're next on their chopping block."

Shepard stopped short of the Flight Officer's chair, looked at the empty station to the left of the pilot, his seat, listening to the electronic notification squeaks and chirps around him, the faint techochatter from Ops Alley. "Captain Anderson should be here. It's like I'm stealing the ship from him," he said quietly.

"Yeah, the Captain got screwed, but it's not like you could have stopped it; no one's blaming you…except you. Uh…sir." He seemed momentarily distracted with his console. "Crew's behind you, hundred percent," he said. He toggled the intercom. "CHENG, Flight. Poppa is in the house. MEFG to IRC."

"Flight, Ops," said the intercom, "Handover complete, ready to cast off."

Another voice came from the console. "Flight, Engineering. Ball is floating. Full delta vee at your discretion."

"Sinks are clean, core at 92 percent," Pressly announced from the Nav station. "We're cleared to undock."

"Okay, that's it," Joker said. He poked at the holographic intercom key, which brightened to red in response. "Attention, all hands. Final preparations for departure and relay jump." His voice reverberated from aft. The level of technical chatter rose noticeably in Ops Alley.

Joker looked over his shoulder at the Commander. "Intercom's still open," he said quietly. "If you've got anything to say to the crew, now's the time."

The Commander leaned forward, raised his voice as he spoke toward the pickup, "This is Commander Shepard speaking. We have our orders: Find Saren before he finds the Conduit. I won't lie to you, team: This mission isn't going to be easy.

"This began with an attack on a human colony. You were all there, you all saw the destruction, you saw the bodies. We saw what Saren did. But we know he won't stop there; his geth armies aren't going to stay on the fringes of Citadel space. We don't know where he's gone, and we've got the whole galaxy to find him in. This is just the sort of mission humans need to show the Council what we can do.

"For too long our species has stood apart from the others. We've been the newcomers, so no one asked or expected much of us. Now it's time for us to step up and make a difference; to do our part for the rest of the galaxy. Time to show them what humans are made of. This is the most important mission any of us have ever been on.

"Our enemy knows we're coming. When we go into the Traverse, Saren's followers will be waiting for us. But we'll be ready for them, too. Humanity needs to do this. Not just for our own sake, but for the sake of every species in Citadel space. Wherever Saren goes, we'll follow. Wherever he searches for the Conduit, we'll be there. If we have to hunt him to the ends of the galaxy, we'll bring him to justice."

He stood straighter, spoke louder, "Captain Anderson specifically requested each and every one of you because you're the best people he's worked with over his career, the best crew in the Alliance. I am both honored to be serving with you, and confident that we can get the job done, and do it honorably.

"So let's go do it." He nodded with finality.

Joker toggled the intercom off, looked up and almost smiled. "Well said, Commander. Captain would be proud."

Shepard looked left at "his" station one last time. "Not if we don't stop Saren." He folded his arms across his chest, looking forward. "Mister Pressly, research and design a course for the Serrice University's archaeological expedition site. Coordinate with Flight. Mister Moreau, take us out. Relay to Artemis Tau. Best speed."

*** Glossary ***

AbbEks: Human Health Extension R&D group, part of Google's Calico family of companies.

AllIntComNet: Alliance Interstallar Communications Network

ARO: Augmented Reality Overlay

BRL: Backpack Rocket Launcher

CFS: Chief Flight Surgeon

CHA: Cord-Hislop Aerospace

CHENG: CHief of ENGineering

CO: Commanding Officer

DCE: Distributed Computing Environment, a VDI wherein storage and processing share a substrate. Typically able to withstand loss of 50% of substrate before adversely affecting data integrity.

fubar: slang acronym for Fouled Up Beyond All Recognition

IRC: Interstellar Relay Charge, a level and distribution of charge

ladder: shipspeak for any staircase or ladder aboard

MEFG: Mass Effect Field Generator

Nectar: A drinkable neuropeptide for counteracting the effects of alcohol

NfoX: Information Exchange; a technology/protocol used by research organizations and universities for scientific research data collection and dissemination. Pioneered on Thessia, popularized in the Alliance by Husseinomica (part of the Venus Project 2.0) after the Prothean discovery on Mars, acquired by Alphabet (Google) in 2073.

NGO: Non-Government Organization

RBR: Room, Board, and Reputation

Rocketdyne-BDS: Rocketdyne was founded by North American Aviation in 1955, bought and sold a dozen times until the Prothean ruins on Mars were discovered. After rights to the mass effect drive were licensed from the UN, Rocketdyne became very successful selling and licensing the drive technologies, at which point it bought Boeing Defense and Space Systems (ironically, a company that had at one time owned Rockwell, Rocketdyne's parent company.)

RFID: Radio Frequency Identification

SCI: subcutaneous interface. Embedded nanotech which allows the nervous system of a user so equipped to interact directly with electronics via an omnitool. Typical of technology professionals, and people who use haptic interfaces daily. Uses realtime-engineered RNA to remain invisible to the autoimmune system.

snafu: slang acronym for Situation Normal: All Fouled Up

TCI: Thessian Collective Interest; analogous to a persistent, evolving, adhocratic corporation, but with an asari "spin." It exists to serve the interests of all within its sphere of influence, utilizing VI clusters to track the evolution of those interests, and develop multiple plans of action – with recommendations and implications – for the voting members to choose from.

Updater: an action/adventure/sexploitation vid about an asari Spectre. Though popular among humans, it has propagated a number of misconceptions, much to the annoyance of asari – and especially asari Spectres – everywhere.

VDI: Virtualized Data Infrastructure